


All my days are yours

by EmanuelAn



Category: 13 Reasons Why (TV)
Genre: Character Death, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:28:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24964504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmanuelAn/pseuds/EmanuelAn
Summary: This is different. Justin died.-Clay and Justin's death. Pretty much what it is. Felt like I had to write about it, came with no intentions this what I ended up with. short and sad.*ADDED CHAPTER! missing hospital scene from 4x10
Comments: 5
Kudos: 35





	1. Chapter 1

This was different. This is different. Jeff died and it was sad because he loved Jeff, or at least that what he thought. Jeff was a friend and great guy, he was well mannered and genuine. They had a nice based of tutoring relationship, which Clay liked. He was a jock but not an asshole and Clay liked that too. Then there was Hanna’s death. Hanna’s death being a suicide, and Hanna herself being probably the first girl he felt actual real feelings for made that all too complicated. Which is a _huge_ understatement. But only in retrospect and with time he would realise that being a teenager just makes everything too complicated. And that was a big part of it, for him, for everyone involved. They made it happen the way it did, because they were teenagers. They reacted to it as teenagers and created what would be their forever teenage story.  
  
-  
  
This is different. Justin died.  
-  
  
He remembers coming home from the hospital. He remembers staring out the window the entire ride back, at the very much familiar Cresmont streets, the ones filled with memories, stories, life. He didn’t thought that, at that time, though. His brain, it felt like he momentarily lost the ability to form even the simplest thoughts- and that basically what brain is. As if he knowledge it being there, but also just not there at all. Because it didn’t matter, it didn’t made sense, because nothing made sense. Because Justin, died, and that, that just does not make any sense at all.  
-  
  
People die, then they have a funeral, then they get buried, Clay knows how it works. Knows they’re following the steps of what is “right”, what should be, of what it is. Problem is, none of it feels real. It feels like a dream, and not even a nightmare, where he’s scared or disturbed or both, or more or generally just- feels. But a dream. A dream he just tags along with. Things just happen around him but not within him, and he just waits for it to end, so he would wake up, in the outhouse, on his bed, for him to roll onto the other side, and see Justin. Not being able to that again, never again, he can’t comprehend.  
-  
If Justin Foley were to die, a couple years ago, yeah, Clay would have not, felt, this way. But life has a way to mix everything up. Make events that lead to others, that lead actions, to building bonds, relationships. When you think, you understand it, or rather think you begin to, it’s almost like, joke’s on you because right then it’ll prove you that you’ll never, truly.  
-  
Then he’s mad. First at himself for not paying enough attention, for not being there. At his parents too, for same reasons. Then at Justin. For not saying anything. For hiding it, for the way it could’ve unfold, if. Its easy for him to understand that being mad will not lead to anything, that its useless really, not like he could go back in time and change the future. It had happened and there’s nothing he can do about it, nothing that no one can. Even if there is absolutely nothing else he wanted or will ever want more than that. He stays mad though, because at least it’s better than the hole in his heart, almost feel it physically, a hole. Void and emptiness he felt since.  
  
-  
Mad became sad the night he realised Justin died, still, not seeing how actual loved he was, how he never understood his real value. Sadder, when he thought that maybe, just maybe, Justin did started to, but then it was all over, and again, nothing mattered anymore.  
He cried and cried, cried rivers. Everything he felt regarding that, felt, like- when you play with volume of a sound and it could be really low and barely audible or could be, so high, pulsating through the walls of a room, shaking it. The bass so powerful it hurts your ears. It had hurt him, because he could sense just how much he loved him, how much he cared for him, how much he wished for him the best. How highly great he thought of him. And how Justin did not, of himself.  
It broke his heart with the specific desire to get back in time, only for the option of Justin still dying, but at least engraving it on him before, that he _is_ loved, and just how much he is loved. (And only with Clay it was an unbelievably crazy amount.) How worth of everything he was, everything he never thought he was, and so much, much, much more. He burned from inside with the pain of lost words that he won’t get to say. More for the impact that they could made not for him, but for Justin.  
-  
  
It was new for Clay, did not know he even had that in him, the protective brotherly love. He liked that, but that was scary too, like his heart expanded only for one person, only for Justin Foley. Scary because suddenly he had this pair of blue green eyes, looking back at him, in fear, in pain, in doubt, in sadness, in desperation and all Clay always wanted was to make it right. To fix it for him. To end that for him, and be replaced with that vibrant happy foley spark. And it was scary because not always he knew how.  
And it was the scariest, because when he died, he had all of them, all of the bad feelings Clay dreaded, all combined in him, looking at him, and there was nothing he could do. He held his hand and felt his life fade away from his body, felt Justin fade away, and nothing was worse than that.  
-  
Somewhere deep, deep inside Clay knows there’s a future. Like he knows his life won’t just stop forever because of Justin. Like maybe it won’t hurt this much, every second of every minute of everyday for the rest of his life. Its just, it’s different. Jeff died and it was sad, Hanna died and it was complicated, but Justin died, and it’s almost impossible.


	2. My feet won't touch the ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I really needed this scene and honestly it annoyed me that they didn't do it.  
> tbh I waited for someone to write this but then decided to give it a go myself  
> after Alex and Charlie's visit

It stayed with him. Echoed through his thoughts again and again. It was unexpected, incomprehensible. He wasn’t even aware the confusion state he was in showed through his facial expression until-  
  
“Hey.” It was weak, and breathy, followed by a short gasp like type of sound. A sound he absolutely hated. He instinctively blinked in order to refocus. Released a breath he wasn’t aware he held. Then sighed and rolled his eyes because it felt selfish, as if he’s showing off the human, natural ability of _breathing,_ when… when Justin-  
“Hey. Wha..what’s on… your mind?”  
Fucking Justin. Even this sick, even when it’s clear he’s struggling to _speak,_ still mange to somehow do it in his soft concerned tone. He moves back to his spot on the chair next to the hospital bed. Justin’s gaze following him.  
What’s on his mind? He is very much aware of what’s on his mind, it’s just, it’s not like he can just say it. He gives him this weak, fake smile. As if the one receiving it is a stranger and not his actual brother, who can read through his bullshit.  
“Clay.” it’s not, but it is a question. He knows that and he knows he really should just stop acting this weird.  
“Cute ha?” He nudges at the stuffed panda bear Alex and Charlie brought him.  
They both know that if not for Justin being… like this. He would absolutely call out Clay for trying to redirect the conversation so bluntly. Instead he starts coughing. Thanking god he never believed in the fit is short and Justin is back to his now usual shaky breaths pretty quickly.  
Clay shakes his head lightly. “Justin I’m…” he needs to somehow address it, he wants to.  
A quick rub to his face and here we go,  
“You could’ve told me.”  
Something in Justin’s eyes changes. The phrase ignites that fight or flight look. Immediately Clay regrets, wants to undo his words.   
“Fuck. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-“  
“No” small, quiet. “I wanted.”

Justin did wanted to tell him. At times where things became too hard to deal with alone. At nights where he couldn’t concentrate on anything but the powerful, painful, fast beating of his heart. At the rare times he almost wished for Clay to ask, to bring it up, so he would tell. Because he was choking and drowning and he just wanted to reales it. Like he was feeling sick and just wanted to puke it all out. He would’ve, “puke”, would’ve tell him. He would’ve but he was ashamed. It was hard because that’s what he always felt about talking about it, about that. He felt like he was born with that, with the shame. Its always the hardest feelings to let go of, the ones you don’t know yourself without.  
He was ashamed, but not anymore. Now, he is sick. And tired and vulnerable and just wants what he always actually really needed but was deprived of for most of his life, which is comfort. He was in pain, physical pain. Felt drained out of every single drop of energy. Shivering and cold, he was _dying_ and he knew that. It’s weird because Justin thought he was close to death one too many times. Now he understands that he was wrong. It’s like, when you know you know, kind of feeling. Not like anything he ever felt before, not like he could ever explain it but that’s exactly what it felt like- the feeling of the end. The real end.

It didn’t matter now that he was ready to talk, to tell him his story. Not only even because he was literally on his _death bed_ , so it’s not like anything matters anymore. But also because it required forming actual full sentences, words, that were beyond his current capacity.  
Clay nods, there is so much that goes between them without actually expressing.  
  
“Happ-“ then he swallow. “Happened, when, I- when I was-“ their eyes are locked. Clay hopes that through their mutual stare he’s able to somehow transfer strength for him to finish what he wants to say. Understand this is important, understand the need in Justin saying whatever he’s about to.  
“-a kid too.”  
  
A nod, a tear.  
And what can he say? What the fuck can Clay say? That he wished for Justin to never live through anything that he did. That he wished he would’ve have told him everything before, and not stay with all of that alone. That he would’ve helped, been there for him. That he really, really, _really_ wished they wouldn’t be In this fucking hospital right now. That he just wants them to be back to their “normal” life. Back in the outhouse, the place that became their safe place. _Their_ place. Where Justin had Clay, where Clay had Justin. Where they had each other.  
Clay takes a deep breath to settle himself before he speaks, “This isn’t fair,”  
He looks at him with tears in his eyes, looks at the broken kid in front of him that suffered way beyond… well, just way, way beyond.  
And Justin, teary eyed too, just smiles at him, a reassuring smile. Its sad, its just really sad. Theres not much to it than that.  
  
“I’m sorry, Justin. I’m _so_ sorry it happened you. Sorry that everything… happened.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I think this is like really sad? I don't know  
> also I have zero idea of wether I like how this turned out, so please please pretty please comment if you do


End file.
